


Birds, Pies and Threats

by tinyarmedtrex



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam dies (but comes back right away), M/M, Pushing Daisies AU, Ronan as the Piemaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-01-31 08:54:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18587935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyarmedtrex/pseuds/tinyarmedtrex
Summary: Ronan Lynch’s life is governed by three simple rules:Rule 1- touch a dead thing once alive.Rule 2- touch a dead thing again, dead forever.Rule 3- keep a dead thing alive for more than one minute and something else has to die.For most of his life he’s followed these rules, cautiously timing things so he doesn’t exceed the one minute rule. Until he sees his ex boyfriend Adam Parrish lying on the mortician’s slab. Ronan breaks his rule and brings Adam permanently back to life. Using his second chance at life, the two attempt to solve the case of Adam's murder and try to navigate a relationship where a single touch is deadly.A Pushing Daisies AU





	1. The Piemaker’s rules

Depending on where you start the story, Ronan Lynch is either 6 years, 2 months and 24 days old or he may be 10 years, 3 months and 26 days old or even 16 years, 2 months and 2 days old. However, Ronan himself would tell you that today, when he is 28 years, 8 months and 7 days old is the start of the story. But he may be biased. 

If you told him his exact age today it’s unlikely that he would care. Ronan had other things on his mind, such as running his pie shop with his two incompetent assistants and solving murders with an overly competent friend. If you told him this, in fact, it’s likely that he would likely swear at you and call you a stalker. If he was in a generous mood, he would glare then insist you to talk to Blue, that was why he paid her after all. Ronan Lynch doesn’t like to talk to people, especially about himself. 

What Ronan would certainly not do was tell you was anything about his life. He wouldn’t tell you about the three rules that guided it. He wouldn’t tell you about the giant secret he kept (or, depending on how you looked at it, the one giant, one moderate and various small secrets). No, Ronan wouldn’t tell you any of that. Instead, he would say that if you weren’t there to order pie or coffee you should leave and give your seat to a paying customer. 

Ronan Lynch ran a semi-successful bakery named the Pie Hole, though this was far from the most interesting thing about him, but he didn’t like to discuss other items while he was baking. He wanted to keep his life separate, like he kept the flour and sugar. The two things were related but only mixed when he choose and only to create something better than themselves. 

“Ronan, can we talk about some business matters?” 

The piemaker swore inwardly as he heard one of his least favorite sentences. It implied that something had gone wrong. Or could go wrong if the conversation wasn’t held. He didn’t want things to go wrong. He wanted to bake pies and be left alone. But, though he didn’t know it then, neither of those were options for today or any other day in the near future. 

But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“No.” 

What followed was a familiar, long suffering sigh. But the pie maker didn’t turn around. He refused to. Because if he turned around something would start. Again. He wasn’t ready for that.But the ‘something’ behind him didn’t care about that. It had no respect for the boundaries of the pie shop, which was evident as it stepped across the ‘customer’ threshold and into the ‘employees’ one. 

“Ronan.” 

Now it was impossible to ignore. Ronan turned around and was met with an Asian man, with spiky hair that seemed to be trying to meet the ceiling halfway. 

“I’m busy”, he said, gesturing to the peaches in front of him and the flour on him. 

“Need that special touch of yours”, Henry replied, ignore him and leaning against the table. He took a peach and bit into it, juice leaking out and dribbling down his chin. He didn’t wipe it off, something he  knew Ronan hated. Ronan knew he was doing it on purpose, hoping to annoy him into agreeing. The worst part was that it worked like a charm. 

“Fine,” he turned to wash his hands and pulled off his apron, “Let’s go.” 

He turned, finding his third and final employee had appeared, “Noah, don’t fucking sneak up on me. You know that’s a bad idea.”

Noah shrugged, muttering a ‘sorry’ as he hefted a bag of flour over his shoulder. Ronan was pretty sure there was more on Noah than in the bag but he wasn’t going to point that out. There were a lot of things with Noah that Ronan declined to point out.

Like the fact that the man should have been lying in the ground for the last 13 years, 8 months and 23 days but here he was instead, stumbling around with bags of flour. His continued breathing was Ronan’s big secret, though it was closely tied to all his other secrets. 

Noah Czerny had died when he was sixteen at the hands of a manic classmate. It was a gory affair and made all the local papers. They had been friends then- in fact, he had been Ronan’s only friend. And so he had made the decision then that he didn’t want Noah to stay dead and, being Ronan, he knew that the other boy didn’t have to. 

So Ronan had touched Noah in the morgue, just once, bringing him back to life. You see, that was the first rule that governed Ronan’s life: touch a dead thing once- alive. 

Noah had sat up, gasping with a low wail and shrinking from Ronan, thinking he was his murderer. It had taken him a while to convince Noah to put down the scalpel and listen as Ronan explained what happened: that yes, Noah had been dead and yes, Ronan had brought him back but no, that didn’t make Noah a zombie who would try to feast on human flesh. Ronan wasn’t exactly sure how his gift worked but, as his earlier secrets had made clear, the things he touched seemed to come back the same as before.

By the time he finished his explanation, Rule Three had gone into effect but 17 year old Ronan didn’t care about that, not yet. He wanted his friend back, even if their casual high fives and fist bumps were now a thing of the past because of Rule Two: touch a dead thing again, dead forever.

It took some getting used to, and they had a few near misses where Noah went in for a high five or Ronan rose a hand to whack the back of his head, but they adjusted. The bigger adjustment was for Noah. He attended his own funeral, watching from a far away hill and silently said goodbye to his family and vowing revenge on his killer. Ronan had helped Noah find him and bring him to justice. That  had been his first foray into solving crimes. 

Once the man was in jail they went on with their lives, hiding Noah at Ronan’s house until graduation. The day after they had moved away, finding Noah a new identity, and Noah had stuck by Ronan ever since. They hadn’t know at first if Noah would age or if he’d be stuck as a gangly 16 year old for forever. Luckily, he did. Neither understood how it worked but now Noah looked like a 28 year old, even if he still acted 16 most days. 

Things were good. As good as they could be when your best friend was supposed to be dead and was living under an assumed name.

It had taken years for Ronan to tell Noah that there were consequences for bringing him back. He didn’t want the other boy to shoulder any of the guilt for still drawing breath. The portly mortician had been due for a heart attack any day now anyway. But eventually Noah had found out what Rule Three was: keep a dead thing alive for more than one minute and something else has to die. 

He’d forced Ronan to tell him everything and had then stormed off for several days, leaving a younger Ronan worried and pissed. When he’d come back he’d still been upset but said he understood. They’d never talked about it again, which was fine by Ronan. Occasionally he felt guilty for shortening a life but seeing Noah on his rickety skateboard or flirting badly with Blue made him care less. He had vowed to himself never to do it again, one death on his hands was enough.

Ronan kept that promise. He never brought anyone else back for more than 60 seconds, keeping track of the time on his ever present watch. For years he didn’t bring back anyone at all, trying to ignore his powers and live a normal life, until one day when Henry Cheng found him purely through circumstance. He had been chasing down a criminal and Ronan had been kneeling over the victim, checking if they were okay.

They weren’t. 

Ronan had accidentally touched the body, causing it to spring back to life for an instant before he hurriedly touched it again, making it fall back, dead for good. Henry saw everything and rather than being concerned, the money-hungry man had offered Ronan a deal: use his power and get part of the profits for solving the crime. At the time Ronan thought it was a good deal, he was 24 and broke. Since then, he’d never had a reason to change the arrangement. A pie shop wasn’t exactly a lucrative business and he liked bringing murderers to justice.

Even if Henry did drive him crazy. 

They piled into Henry’s sleek, well maintained car. Ronan tried to insist on driving every time since Henry drove like an old lady, but the detective always refused, saying he didn’t want to arrive at the scene dead. It was his way of saying that he thought Ronan was a bad driver.

“So what happened?” Ronan asked, leaning against the front seat. 

“Kid was on a cruise, first time outside in his life sounds like. Getting iced, instead he got iced. Now there’s a ten thousand dollar reward from the cops to figure out who killed the vic.”

Ronan nodded. He’d seen it in the news, they weren’t releasing the name or any pictures of victim but the fact that he died mysteriously on a cruise line had been big news and it was ripe for puns- sleeping with the fishes, expired like yesterday’s shrimp, a one way trip to Davy Jones locker. 

Ronan didn’t really care. It was another case, another another story, another payment. He wanted to get it over with and get back to his newest flavor experiment- mango and peach. He’d been playing with mixing the two for weeks and nearly had it figured out, after many late nights and swear words. 

The pair pulled up to the morgue, Henry flashing their (almost real) IDs as they walked in. Ronan never asked where Henry got the FBI ID’s and Henry never volunteered the information. He had no issues with breaking the law- how could he, he had become a murderer at age 17- but it didn’t mean he wanted the details. The less he knew the better.

That was his general approach to his moonlighting career.  He would touch the body, ask the questions and go back to his shop, not wanting to learn any more than was necessary. The person was dead, there was nothing he could (morally) do to change than for more than 60 seconds. He didn’t want to be involved any further. 

But it never worked that way. Though Henry would deny it, he liked having a partner almost as much as he liked pie. He wanted someone to appreciate his lockpicking skills and how clever he was. Henry probably wouldn’t have picked the constantly scowling Ronan for this but beggars can’t be choosers. He also insisted that if Ronan got half the money he did half the work. As a result, Ronan was reluctantly dragged into finding clues and solving cases when he’d much rather be left alone. 

 

“Alright Lynch, do your thing,” Henry said, pulling out the proper drawer. He was turned so he missed the look on Ronan’s face, which had changed from gruff and annoyed to pure shock.

“He’s the victim?” Ronan said, sounding like someone had just informed him that Beyonce was the next president- disbelieving, maybe hopeful, but also sure someone would yell ‘Fooled you!’ any second.

“Of course he is, why else would I be showing you a dead body? For laughs?” Henry asked, turning to Ronan and finally seeing his expression. “Why do you look like someone just told you that Santa isn’t real?”

A low noise escaped Ronan’s throat, something between a moan and grunt.

“You do know Santa isn’t real, right?” 

Ronan Lynch was well aware that Santa wasn’t real. His older brother had robbed him of that belief at the tender age of seven, also informing him that whining about it wasn’t going to change anything. What was causing Ronan’s current discomfort had nothing to do with fictional holiday mascots. It was the fact that he knew this victim. 

The dead man, lying in the coffin with the unnatural stillness that only the dead have, was Adam Parrish, Ronan’s first and only love. They had met 12 years, 6 months and 5 days ago, during Ronan’s junior year of high school. Adam had transferred to Ronan’s expensive private school and caught his eye from day one. He was confused, defensive and perfect. When their hands touched in chemistry class Ronan’s heart had sped up and he knew it was the beginning of a dangerous crush.

So he had done the only natural thing- teased the boy until he told Ronan to fuck off, effectively dismissing him and his actions.

But Adam was too smart to fall for the ploy for long. Soon, they were reluctant lab partners. Then friends. Then more. Everything was perfect for a short while, until Adam’s parents made him transfer to a boarding school, insisting it was for his own good (though both boys knew it was because they didn’t want him at home). It had been abrupt and Ronan had barely had any time to process before their  angry and unsatisfying goodbye. 

Adam had made Ronan promise to call him, to write. And at first he had. He would send Adam shitty pictures of his car or flowers. He’d write him terrible poems to the cadence of the Murder Squash song. But that got hard, hearing Adam’s voice through a shitty cell phone or only seeing him in pictures. So, slowly, Ronan stopped. And then Adam stopped too. 

They’d never officially broken up but it had been too hard to pretend that things were working. Ronan remembered the last text Adam had sent him, something about how he was going to splurge for pizza for dinner. Ronan had never replied. 

If asked, Ronan would have insisted that he was over Adam, that it was a high school relationship and he was an adult now. He would have been lying. 

It was harder to lie to himself, especially now with Adam’s dusty form lying prone in front of him. The cowlick in his dirty blond hair still sticking straight up. You couldn’t lie to the dead, they always saw through it. 

“I want to do this alone”, Ronan said, not taking his eyes off the body. He hated that he’d forgotten so many details about Adam- like the freckles that decorated his cheeks and how high his cheekbones were. Though it was also possible that both were more a symptom of his current state than Ronan’s memory. However, h knew for certain that the boy’s  cheeks had been pinker and his skin less sallow.

“Why?” Henry asked, crossing his arms and not moving an inch. 

“Special circumstances”, Ronan replied, thinking about the last time he saw Adam. He had waited until his last day to tell Ronan he was leaving, knowing how he would react. Adam had told him after first period and Ronan refused to speak to him until fourth, when Adam had put a hand over Ronan’s and asked if this was how they wanted to spend their last day together. The answer was obviously no. 

They had skipped the rest of the day, spending it outside and not talking about what was about to happen. Neither wanted to admit it so they pretended it wasn’t happening. Instead Ronan had taken Adam to their favorite bakery and then on a fast drive up to their favorite spot. They’d eaten scones among the trees and kissed until Ronan almost forgot about why they were kissing so much.  

Back in the present, Ronan could tell that Henry was thinking of saying no. He hated being left out and could always smell when Ronan was holding something back, but there was no way he was letting Henry stay for this. 

Ronan turned to him, arms crossed. “I’ll tell you everything I learn.” Henry raised an eyebrow, clearly that wasn’t enough. “And give you free pie for a week.”

He saw Henry’s need to know debating with his stomach and upped the ante, “A month.”

Stomach won. “Fine.”

“Peach pie ala mode here I come,” Henry said, turning on his heels. 

“You’re still getting charged for ice cream!” He called as the door closed. Henry didn’t respond, either not hearing or not caring. 

Finally alone, Ronan turned back to Adam, debating where to touch him. He couldn’t think about anything beyond that, not yet. His eyes scanned Adam’s cold form. The hand? Too formal. The lips? Too forward. The cheek? Ah, the cheek was perfect. Intimate yet friendly. Not presumptuous but not denying what they used to have. 

He leaned in, brushing his finger over Adam’s cheek and clicked to start the clock. Then he instantly leapt back as Adam shot up, his hands flailing as he reached for his neck.

“What the- where am I? Who are- Ronan? What the-,” Adam looked around rapidly, trying to gather clues to determine where he was.

“Am I in a morgue?” then he looked down at his chest and the cloth that covered his hips. “Am I dead?” he asked, his voice implying more annoyance than anything else. 

“Recently undead,” Ronan replied. Henry liked to call them zombies, but he found it gauche. “To be dead again in,” he looked down, “fifty seconds.”

“Well that sucks,” Adam said, frowning. “Why am I awake?” it was one of the many things Ronan had admired about Adam, he was pragmatic to a fault. He had already accepted that he was dead, now he wanted the why’s. 

“You were murdered, we need to know by who,” Ronan said, forcing himself to leave out all the words that he wanted to say. 

“That’s unfortunate.” Adam brushed his neck with his fingers, right across, where he had been strangled. The lines were still there, cutting into his skin.

 

“I can’t help you. They got me from behind while I was getting ice,” he frowned again, deeper this time. “It was my first time leaving Virginia and I died. How fucking poetic.” Adam still had the deep Southern twang that Ronan had loved. His vowels were drawn out and his d’s lasted several seconds. 

“Hopefully it was a good cruise until then,” Ronan said and Adam laughed. He’d always appreciated Ronan’s particular sense of humor, even when it was aimed at him. 

“It was. Shame there’s no death refund.”

Ronan glanced down. Twenty five seconds left. Not nearly enough time for him, for them. Adam was watching him with those eyes that Ronan used to get lost in. He couldn’t think about that. 

“Anything else?” Ronan asked. “Any special messages you want me to deliver to a lover or web searches I should delete?”

“No lovers,” Adam’s eyes caught Ronan’s, holding them. “I never got over my high school boyfriend. He was an asshole but I loved him.” 

Ronan’s mouth went dry as his heart rate accelerated noticeably. He had always hoped that Adam hadn’t forgotten him. He’d certainly never forgotten him. The blueness of his eyes, the way his lips perpetually curled into a barely perceptible smile. He remembered Adam’s slight, teasing way of flirting and how their clumsy high school touches had been almost too much for him. Adam had been his first kiss, his first everything and everything about Adam had been too much for him. He had been so in love with the boy, before he properly understood what that meant. The regret of letting him go settled heavily over him, especially when he was so close and would never be again. 

He realized then, as the final seconds ticked down, that he couldn’t touch Adam again. He couldn’t let him die permanently, consequences be damned. 

Ronan had learned at a young age the consequences of his gift. Well before he brought back Noah he had brought back someone else, purely on accident. 

At the tender age of 6 years, 2 months and 24 days old Ronan Lynch had walked into the study and found his father lying on the floor, not breathing. He had been too young to understand the permanence of death, and instead had thought that his dad was playing some game that Ronan didn’t like. 

“Dad?” he had asked, crouching next to his father and gently pushing on his arm. He wanted to ask for a snack and knew his dad was more likely to agree to cookies than his mom. 

The touch caused Niall Lynch to spring up, gasping roughly as he looked around. “Where- what-” Niall asked, scrambling to stand and looking down at the glass of spilled whiskey. 

“Was I dead?” The question didn’t phase the young child, not until he was older and understood everything it implied. 

“You were on the floor,” Ronan replied, sidestepping the question he didn’t understand. 

Niall quickly stood, looking around the room, “Who else is home?” 

“Mom, Declan. Matthew is sleeping. Your friend,” Ronan had said, confused why his dad was looking out the window. 

 

His dad often had strange men who came over,  went into one of the barns and then left. Occasionally, they brought flowers for his mom or candy for him and his brothers.  He wanted to ask about the cookies but sensed that his dad would say no. He decided to wait. 

“Don’t move. Don’t touch me,” his father had said, running out of the room.

Ronan hurried to the window, watching his father run outside and to the barn. He didn’t move, always trying to listen to what his dad told him. He wanted his dad to be proud and if staying still would make him proud then Ronan would stay still for hours. 

It wasn’t until he was much older that Ronan realized several things about that moment.

The first being that his dad knew exactly what had happened, which meant that he had the same power that his son possessed. The second was that he was trying to save his young children and wife by running to the barns. Third, Niall Lynch was willing to murder his friend in order to stay alive.

Later that day Ronan remembered his dad being covered in dirt and sweat. And, again, much later, he realized that this meant his dad had buried a body. 

But six year old Ronan hadn’t understood any of that. All he knew was that his dad told him to stay so he did. He was still there an hour later when his mom came looking for him, her voice softening as he explained what happened and that all he wanted was a cookie. She had scooped him up and let him have all the cookies he wanted.

That night, when his dad came back from showering Ronan had run to him like he always did, expecting his dad to pick him up and spin him. Instead his dad had frantically screamed no, waving his hands in distress and backing up. This hadn’t deterred young Ronan. He’d still leapt into his dad’s arms, which instantly went stiff and unresponsive as both clattered to the floor. 

Two noises accompanied this action. The first was a cup shattering against the floor when his mother dropped her tea. The second was his mother’s long, low wail. It rose up and crescendoed as Ronan frantically touched his dad again, sure he could fix this and bring him back. He looked from her to Declan, who was staring at him, horrified, to his dad, who refused to move no matter how much Ronan prodded him. 

That was the first time Ronan had experienced the Second Rule. Touch a dead thing again, dead forever. 

The next few weeks had been a blur, his mother had broken down completely and a distant relative had come to stay with him and his brothers. Eventually, a funeral had taken place and Ronan hadn’t cried. Because he was still sure that his dad would jump up and say it was a joke. He spent the entire time asking Declan why dad was pretending and Declan, in turn, had spent it telling Ronan to shut up. 

Over the coming weeks the relatives left and Aurora stayed. But she was never the same. She laughed less and Ronan frequently came into the kitchen to find her staring out at the barns, like she had forgotten that she could move on her own. 

Ronan had taken it upon his small self to understand his power. He’d tested it on bugs and snakes. That was how he’s learned his three rules. The ones that would govern the rest of his life. 

He’d always regretted that he’d learned them too late. He regretted a lot of things. If he thought about all of them he’d drown in it. 

 

“Ronan?” Adam, shaking him out of his thoughts. He looked down and realized they only had seven seconds left. 

“Do you want to live?” He asked.

“Are you pretending to be an 80’s action movie hero?” Adam smiled his wiry half smile that Ronan used to love. When Ronan didn’t return the gesture Adam nodded. “Of course I want to live. It’s certainly preferable to the alternative.” 

Ronan gave a firm nod, grateful that Adam said that because the clock struck zero. Distantly, Ronan thought he heard a thump but he couldn’t worry about that.

“We have to get you out of here,” he said, looking around for clothes. “And don’t touch me.”

Adam, used to Ronan’s strange antics, nodded and stood. He found an old lab coat and handed it to Adam. 

“Go out the back, I’ll meet you there in ten minutes,” Ronan said, starting for the door.

“Ronan?” 

Ronan turned, looking at the now breathing, forever breathing, boy. “What?”

Adam gave him a rare real smile, “Thanks for rescuing me.” 


	2. The Piemaker’s new roommate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How did you plan to do this?” Henry asked. “We’re bringing the dead guy to investigate his own murder. You think they won’t notice?”
> 
> Ronan hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t thought about most of this. The sight of Adam’s puppy dog eyes had been enough to convince him to do anything he asked.
> 
> “I’ll wear a hat,” Adam suggested.

Ronan’s first issue was Henry. He had to tell the other man what he found and then get away from him as soon as possible. He stepped out of the morgue, carefully closing the door behind him.

“He didn’t know anything.” 

Henry arched an eyebrow, “That’s it?” 

Ronan shrugged, “That’s all there is.” 

Henry may have left it at that if it hadn’t been for an  inopportune clatter behind Ronan. He cringed as something fell to the ground, the noise nearly deafening since it was coming from what was supposed to be a silent space.

“That’s it huh?” Henry asked, moving forward.

“Free pie for two months if you don’t open that door,” Ronan bargained, trying to position himself between Henry and the aforementioned entrance. 

“Not worth it.”

“Three?” Henry’s hand on the door and he paused. Then shook his head, “My detective sense is tingling.” 

Ronan racked his brain, trying to think of anything else to offer him, “Four months and ice cream is included.”

Now Henry turned and looked at him.

“You really don’t want me to see what’s behind this door do you?”

 

Ronan shrugged, aiming for nonchalance and failing. Henry shoved him aside and flung open the door with a proud ‘Aha!’ and Ronan tired to think of an explanation as he followed Henry in. 

“Henry, listen I-,” he started as he entered but stopped. Nothing was out of place. He had expected to see and overturned table, Adam, something. But everything was fine. Ronan was impressed.

“I have to go,” he said, deciding that now was a great time to disappear. “I’ll see you later.”

“I was your ride!” Henry called after him.

“I’ll call a cab!” he called back, taking the stairs two at a time. When he got outside he ran to the back of the building, thrilled to see Adam leaning over and petting a stray cat. 

“You’re here,” Ronan said. Part of him had been sure he had made it up, that Adam wouldn’t be there when he went to find him. But here he was, living, breathing and stroking under the tabby’s chin.

“Where else would I be?” Adam asked, straightening and looking at him. “This outfit doesn’t give me many options” he said, gesturing to the buttoned lab coat. 

_ Dead,  _ Ronan thought but didn’t say. Instead he shrugged. 

“Where to now?” Adam asked. “I need some clothes. And shoes.” 

Ronan hesitated, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. His concern had been Henry and not getting caught.

“Do you want to go back home?” he didn’t know where home was for Adam but assumed he’d want to go back to get his clothes, assuming it wasn’t a crime scene. 

But Adam shook his head. “No, I was still with my dad.” He paused, swallowing, “You remember how he is. I don’t need anything from him.” 

He nodded. Adam’s parents would never have won parents of the year. Hearing that he still lived with his dad was surprising but it wasn’t Ronan’s place to ask. He looked at Adam, who was wearing the stolen lab coat and nothing else and began to realize how ill formed this plan was. Adam was still looking at him, expectant. So he said the first thing that came to mind. 

“You can stay with me, borrow some clothes. If you want.” 

That was how, an hour later, Adam was shoveling pie into his mouth and Ronan was explaining his odd gift and the rules that he lived by. Except for Rule Three. Adam was constantly weighed down by guilt and pressure and this was a guilt Ronan was comfortable bearing alone.

“That explains me. And Noah,” they had run into him while Ronan was unlocking the pie shop to grab Adam a something to eat. Noah had, annoyingly, immediately guessed the situation and insisted on calling Adam his ‘Zombie Confidant’. He recognized Adam from high school and started to tease Ronan about the two of them sitting in a tree not k-i-s-s-i-n-g because Adam would die. Adam had laughed while Ronan had turned around and rustled in the fridge, determined to ignore Noah. Luckily he had years of experience. 

“But what about the bird?” he asked, pointing to Chainsaw, who had been eyeing him skeptically from the top of the TV.

“Ah well, that’s Chainsaw,” Ronan explained, grabbing his back scratcher and stroking her head. She leaned into it, still watching Adam. 

“She’s like me?” 

 

Ronan nodded, giving a brief explanation of how he had obtained Chainsaw (though she would probably tell you that she obtained Ronan.) It was the second time that he had brought something back permanently.

He’d been 10 years, 3 months and 26 days old and in the forest, trying to get lost so he couldn’t be punished for fighting with his brother. In the midst of an imaginary argument (which he was handily winning) he’d seen a small, dead bird on the ground. 

His mother had made him promise not to use his powers anymore but Ronan was small angry and he decided that the bird didn’t deserve the injustice of being dead and that he would give her a few seconds of life. He touched the still body and the bird sprang to life, cawing in surprise and immediately hopping away from Ronan, cawing noisily at him as she did. 

“No, damn. Come back!” he had called to the bird, chasing after her. 

It was a mistake. The bird flew away, landing on a branch that was just out of his reach and asked, “Keerah?”

“You stupid bird, you’re supposed to be dead. Get back here!” he said, jumping as high as he could and still not even grazing the branch. 

The bird seemed to find his jumping amusing, she emitted a strange sound that seemed like teasing laughter. Ronan had been looking for a rock or something to throw when he was startled as a squirrel that fell out of a tree, dead as a doornail. 

He looked at the squirrel, then back at the bird, “Congratulations, you’re alive for good now. Enjoy it,” he turned, intent on walking back home, ready for the lecture from his mother about being nicer to his older brother and not throwing his shoes over the barn rafters. 

“Keerah?” The bird asked, hopping from branch to branch and following him.

He glared at it, “What do you want? I can’t help you. I can’t even touch you.” 

“Keerah,” it declared amicably. She seemed to be saying that she didn’t see how that was a barrier to their friendship.

“Whatever.”

Ronan had trudged home, opening the door to a lecture from his mother, complete with a smug looking Declan watching from the doorframe. Once it was over he’d gone up to his room, throwing himself on his bed with a fury that only a scorned child could manage.

He’d intended to wallow for the rest of the night but before he could there was a tapping on his window. Looking out he saw that it was the bird from earlier, or at least he presumed it was the same one. 

“Go away,” he mumbled. But the bird didn’t. It stayed there until the next morning and then the next week.

Eventually Ronan started to worry that it wasn’t eating. He began to bring her treats, whatever he could sneak from dinner. Soon he was leaving the window open so she could hop in and out and when she wanted. Once he named her he knew that he was stuck with her.

That had been many years ago. He didn’t know how long crows lived but his seemed immortal. Which was lucky for him, she was the only real constant in his life and he was grateful for her, even if he couldn’t touch her. They managed, he would use a stick to pet her, she would leave him small bits of shiny paper to show her affection. 

Back in the present, Chainsaw cautiously hopped up Adam’s arm and landed on his shoulder, picking at his collar. Adam tried to move away but she was undeterred, swaying with him.

Ronan smiled, “She doesn’t usually like people.”

“She probably smells the death,” Adam said, giving her a side eye. 

“Nah, she hates Noah. She’s always picking at his hair,” Ronan watched them for a minute, the wary human and persistent bird. The two things he’d come closest to loving in his life.

Eventually Adam gave up, letting Chainsaw nestle close to him. Ronan smiled at them  then stood, gathering the necessary things for a makeshift bed. 

“I don’t have to stay here,” Adam said, startling Ronan, who was bent over rummaging through his closet. 

He turned to see the other man leaning casually against the doorframe, watching him, Chainsaw still on his shoulder.  Suddenly every part of him yearned to touch Adam, to stroke his cheek or press their hips together. His hands ached with the want of it. He could tell that Adam was thinking the same thing, his eyes dragging down Ronan’s long frame. 

It took him a minute to process what Adam said, and another to reply. 

“I want you to. Unless  _ you _ don’t want to,” he wasn’t going to make Adam a prisoner and he couldn’t explain just how much he wanted him to stay.

“I don't have anywhere else to go.” 

“You can stay here until we solve your murder,” he wanted Adam to stay longer but at least this gave him some time. “After that we’ll figure something out but you’ll have to stay hidden until then.”

Adam sighed, moving cautiously past Ronan and to the window, “I don’t want to be hidden. I spent years staying small and quiet. I don’t want to live like that again.”

Ronan moved as close as he dared, making sure Adam knew where he was, “We don’t have a lot of other options right now. You died. Your face was on TV. You need to lie low.” 

Adam’s lips pressed into a frown but he nodded.

Later that night, after he insisted that Adam take the bed, Ronan was curled up on the couch, trying and failing not to watch how Adam’s eyebrows scrunched and how his lips moved as he slept fitfully.  He wished he could reach over and smooth down the other boy’s hair like he used to, whisper that he was there and that Adam had nothing to worry about. 

Adam had always slept poorly but he did a little better with Ronan next to him. Ronan was the same. He hadn’t thought about that in years and sleeping like this, several feet away from Adam, wasn’t nearly the same.

Eventually he forced himself to roll over. Staring at Adam while he slept wasn’t helping him feel less alone and wouldn’t help him figure out what to do next. 

The next day, Ronan woke up and dressed quietly, trying not to wake Adam. His day started early but he knew Adam liked to sleep in. Or at least he used to. Ronan didn’t know much about him anymore.

He went down to the shop, turning on music and grabbing everything he needed to start on the morning pies. He started early for several reasons, one being that he had to have pies ready for the breakfast crowd but also because he used his gift to save some money where he could, meaning he would buy expired fruit and, with a touch, turn it back to glorious, plump ripeness. 

Ronan had long ago perfected the single touch before slicing them with a gloved hand and mixing them with sugar and spices. Occasionally, Noah would show up early and spend time with him but he did all he could to keep the secret from Blue. Two people knowing- now three, he reminded himself- was enough. 

“Your music taste hasn’t changed over the years I see,” a voice said coming from behind him. “It's still terrible.” 

“This is a classic,” Ronan said, turning to see Adam standing there. He was in some of Ronan’s clothes, which made him both happy and a little melancholy.

“It’s shit,” he walked next to Ronan, careful not to touch him as he looked at the table. “Can I help?”

“Are you cooking skills better now than they used to be?” Ronan asked, remembering the time Adam almost burnt down the kitchen making eggs. 

“I can mix things,” Adam replied, making Ronan assume that the answer to his question was no. 

For the next few hours they worked side by side and made pies. Ronan knew they needed to talk about things, lots of things. He knew it was unreasonable to want everything to be like they used to.  Adam had changed, he had changed. They couldn’t solve anything by making pies and teasing each other. 

But he didn’t care. 

What he cared about was the smudge of flour on Adam’s face and the way he watched as Ronan rolled out the dough. He cared about hearing Adam’s laugh again and the slow drawl that he tried to hide. That was what mattered to Ronan, nothing else. 

His reverie was broken by Blue coming in, announcing her presence with a loud bang and a swear word. Ronan and Adam exchanged glances as he called for her.

“We’ve got a new person starting,” he explained as Blue walked in.

The girl’s eyes traveled from Adam to Ronan, hands on her hips, “Interesting.”

“Can you show him the ropes?” 

She sucked her teeth, “‘Course I can. I’m the best waitress you’ve got.”

“You’re the only waitress I’ve got.”

She laughed and grabbed two aprons, handing one to Adam before whisking him away, leaving Ronan alone. It had been a long time since he was lonely but this was a close approximation. Adam was still close but now his attention was focused on Blue, nodding along and laughing at her jokes. The pair casually bumped shoulders and Ronan had to stop the jealousy that roared in his chest. He knew nothing would happen between them but Blue being able to casually touch Adam was almost worse. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Henry asked, surprising Ronan. He had slipped in the back door, effectively sneaking up on him. 

“Making pies.” 

Henry shook his head, knowing that he was trying to avoid the question, “That’s the dead kid. Who is apparently no longer dead. Unless the dead can now serve as waitstaff. That’d be handy I guess. You could probably pay them less.”

 

Henry was making no attempt to keep his voice down so Ronan took his elbow and lead him outside to the alley.

“What do you want?” he asked, once the door closed behind them. 

“To know what the hell you think you’re doing. Do you think this will end well? Solving someone’s murder with the murderee riding next to us?” 

Hearing his own fears repeated in Henry’s voice was unsettling, “At least we can ask him questions.” 

Henry fixed him with a look, “Have you been asking him questions about the case?” 

“No,” he admitted. 

“What were you thinking?” Henry hissed, leaning in. “How could you do this?” 

“I-” Ronan tried to think of something but couldn’t. He had known it was a bad idea but that hadn’t stopped him. He hadn’t even considered what happened next, only knowing that he couldn’t leave Adam laying there on the slab. 

Henry continued, not waiting for him, “I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone. I knew it. Is he coming with us on the case too?”

“No!” Ronan exclaimed. “He’s staying in my apartment.”

“For how long? How are you going to keep him under wraps? What is your plan? Do you even have one?” the questions forced Ronan to think about everything that he absolutely didn’t want to think about. 

“I don’t know,” he replied through gritted teeth, feeling his anger building. He wasn’t sure if he was mad at Henry or himself but Henry was the easier target. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” Adam asked, coming outside. “Who is this?” He had probably noticed how tense and annoyed Ronan looked. 

Henry stuck out a hand, “Henry Cheng, P.I.” 

“Adam Parrish, waiter,” he said, shaking his hand.  Ronan didn’t miss how both of them glanced at him.

“I’m stealing your pie maker for a few hours,” Henry said, releasing Adam’s hand.

“I’ll come,” Adam said, starting to take off his apron. 

Henry gave Ronan another glance, this one meaning ‘talk to your boy’ before saying, “I’ll be in the car,” and walking away, leaving Ronan to figure out how to phrase what he needed to say. Adam was watching him, waiting for him to speak. 

“You can’t come,” he finally said. 

Adam raised an eyebrow, “I can’t?”

“No, because you’re,” he dropped his voice, looking around. “Dead. And dead men can’t help solve their own murder.” 

Adam scowled, “Is this your plan? To keep me locked up?”

“For now.” 

The scowl deepened, “No.”

“No?” 

The other boy shook his head to emphasise his point, “No. I didn’t die to become a prisoner. I want to come with you. Who better to solve my murder than me?” 

It was good logic, Ronan had to admit it. But he knew that Henry wouldn’t agree.

 

“I think it’s safer if you stay here.” 

Adam next words had some heat to them, “I played it safe my whole life. I spent it watching over my parents as they grew old. Then, one day I decided that I couldn’t waste my life like that and I took a trip. Just for me. Finally. And you know what happened next,” he leaned in, almost too close. “I died Ronan. Went to that big pie hole in the sky.” 

“Isn’t that more incentive to stay here?” 

“No. It’s more of an incentive to  _ live _ . Or half live, whatever it is I have now. I don’t want to hide anymore Ronan. I did it for 29 years and I can’t do it anymore. I won’t,” Adam crossed his arms, telling Ronan that the next move was his. 

He wanted to argue, he wanted to tell Adam to stay safe, but he couldn’t. Just because he had given Adam this new life doesn’t mean that he got to control it. He decided he’d rather disappoint Henry than Adam any day. 

“Fine. Put your apron away,” Adam gave him a small smile and went inside, when he came back out they walked to Henry’s car. 

Henry threw his hands up at the sight of them but unlocked the doors. He made Adam sit in the back as they drove. 

“How did you plan to do this?” Henry asked. “We’re bringing the dead guy to investigate his own murder. You think they won’t notice?” 

Ronan hadn’t thought about that. He hadn’t thought about most of this. The sight of Adam’s puppy dog eyes had been enough to convince him to do anything he asked. 

“I’ll wear a hat,” Adam suggested and Henry snorted. 

“Whatever. You’re in charge of a convincing lie. I’m not helping with that.” 

As they drove Henry questioned Adam about his trip. Adam didn’t have a lot more to say. He was on it for fun. He didn’t know anyone else there. He hadn’t seen his attackers. Nothing seemed strange on the ship. That was it. 

“You’re useless,” Henry proclaimed, looking at Adam as he parked.

“I was there on vacation, not pretending to be Miss Marple.” 

They were at the travel agency that Adam had used, hoping to find out something about his booking or the ship he was on. Anything. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll stay in the car,” Henry asked, turning to look at Adam, who stubbornly shook his head. Henry sighed and the three of them got out, walking up to Neeve Mullen's office. 

The facts were these: Neeve had made her name in the real estate game at a young age, showing the determined ruthlessness that was necessary for a modern day travel agent. She had clawed her way to the top and had a reputation for getting her clients what they wanted when they wanted it.

“No. Yes. Fine. Next Tuesday. Did I fucking stutter?” Neeve was shouting into a headset when they entered. She vaguely gestured to the chairs in front of them, not even looking at the men for several minutes as she made what sounded like a dozen more calls.

Finally she finished and turned her attention to them, “Where did you boys want to go? Costa Rica is great for throuples. They have California king beds so all of you can-”

“We’re not together,” Henry interrupted, glaring as Adam stifled a laugh. “We’re here about the Parrish death.”

She tapped a long nail against her lips, thinking. Then, with a snap of her fingers she nodded, “That’s right. Nasty business that was. Nothing to do with me or my agency of course- everyone signs a waiver that says as much, I can show you if you need- but still, nasty business,” she sat, checking her email as she talked. 

“What did you want my help with?”

“We were wondering if there was anything strange with Parrish’s booking? Anyone asking questions about it?” Henry asked, sitting down in one of the chairs.

To Ronan’s mild surprise, Neeve actually thought about if for a second- or maybe she was thinking about her next appointment. She shook her head, “No, no one asked about the Parrish boy,” Henry seemed disappointed. 

“Was anyone else injured on the cruise?” Ronan asked, unsure if she would know. “Or any strange last minute bookings?”

She typed a few keystrokes then shook her head again. “No other major injuries, some hurt hands from too much shuffleboard but that’s all. And no last minute bookings,” she pursed her lips then asked, “Anything else?” clearly done with the conversation. 

“Can we have the passenger list?” Adam asked, speaking for the first time. Neeve glance at him and for a second Ronan thought that she remembered him. But instead she just smiled and winked at him.

“For the cute, quiet boy? Sure,” with a flick of her hand she looked up the list then printed it, the pages shooting out of the printer behind her. She paused before handing it over, looking at them. “What agency did you say you’re with?”

“FBI,” Henry lied, grabbing the papers and standing. “Pleasure to work with you m’am.” He went to the door and Ronan and Adam followed. Neeve was on the phone again by the time they reached it. 

Once they were back in the car Henry looked at the list, “I don’t know what we’re going to do with this. It’s not like someone is going to be called ‘Adam’s murderer,” he handed it to Ronan who let his eyes flick over it

 

Martha Noble      Room 302 Adam Parrish     Room 612  Emily Jordan             Room 304

Donna Jones    Room 411 Sam Jones         Room 515  Daisy Smith           Room 409

Carl Bluemantle  Room 127 Mark Fisher        Room 110  Alexa Adams         Room 606

Mickey Smith     Room 504  Leigh Black        Room 202   Kimberly Schmitt   Room 211 

 

None of the names meant anything to him. Carefully, he handed it back to Adam, checking that he wasn’t going to bump the other man. 

“Anything?” he asked, as Adam’s eyes scanned the list. 

He shook his head, “Nope.” 

Henry sucked his teeth, “What do we do now?” 

“What about getting my stuff back?” Adam asked, leaning back in the car. “I’d like some of my clothes, at least.”

Henry nodded, “Fine. I doubt there’s any clues in that but fine.”

 

Ronan glanced at Adam in the back mirror, trying to gauge how he felt about going home but Adam was looking out the window.

“You know you can’t come in,” he said as they started to drive, Adam giving directions. He wished that Henry wasn’t there so he could ask properly. 

“It’s not an issue,” he said simply. “I don’t want to go in.” 

Ronan opened his mouth but Henry shot him a look and he closed his mouth. Fine, they didn’t have to talk about it then. 

It took nearly an hour to get there and he could feel Adam drawing into himself as they drove. He only spoke to give directions. Ronan wondered how it felt to be back, if there were any good memories associated with it. He wished he knew why Adam had stayed there for nearly three decades. 

They pulled up to Adam’s old house. Though house may have been the wrong word. It was a ramshackled place, barely held together by criss crossing boards and jutting nails. 

“I’ll go,” Ronan said, opening his car door before Henry could argue. He knew that Adam would hate for both of them to see his old life. 

Walking up he knocked on the door, resisting the urge to look back at the car. He’d never met Adam’s dad but had heard enough stories that he had to resist the impulse to punch the sad, tired man who opened the door. He couldn’t stop the sneer on his lips though. 

“What?” the large man asked, leaning against the doorframe. 

Ronan opted to keep it simple, “I’m investigating your son’s death and need his belongings from the cruise.” 

Robert Parrish looked Ronan up and down, sucking his teeth like he was deciding if Ronan was worth it. 

Apparently he was because the older man grunted and gave a quick nod. “Fine. I don’t want that shit anyway. Wait here.” 

The man turned and Ronan took the chance to look in the house. The inside was as bad as the outside. There wasn’t any evidence of love or affection. The place was crowded with crap but none of it seemed sentimental. It was just all junk, things piled on top of other things, newspaper piles that looked like they were about to topple. 

Adam’s dad reappeared with a battered suitcase, “Here.” He practically flung it at Ronan and started to shut the door. Then something else seemed to occur to him. “You boys get a reward if you figure it out?”

Ronan shrugged. “Not really the point,” he replied, irritated that that was what the man cared about. Not his dead son or why he was killed. 

“Well if you do get a one you best remember who helped you.” 

Ronan set his jaw, “Will do.” He turned and left. He had barely exchanged 20 words with the man and he never wanted to speak to him again.

“Here,” he said, sitting back in the car and handing Adam his suitcase. 

Adam looked from the door to him, “What’d he say?” His accent was thick, like being here made it insist on being remembered. 

Ronan couldn’t bring himself to tell Adam what happened, “Nothing worth repeating,” he said honestly. 

 

The ride was quiet, none of them really sure what to say. About halfway through the drive Adam popped open his luggage and started looking through his stuff. 

“That’s weird.” 

“What?” Ronan asked, turning around to look. 

Adam held up a pair of matching bird statutes, “These aren't mine.” 

“Let me see,” Henry said, pulling over to the side of the road and making grabby hands. Adam handed one over, still looking at the other. 

Henry examined the sculpture for a few minutes, bringing it close to his eyes and rolling it in his hands. To Ronan, it looked like something that would be in an old lady’s house. About 6 inches tall and painted in a gaudy gold paint. He didn’t understand the appeal. 

“Do you have any idea what it is?” Henry asked, passing the item to Ronan. It was lighter than he expected but everything else seemed the same. It seemed solid so he doubted that there was anything hidden inside it.

“No,” Adam said, still looking at the bird. “But it was clearly worth killing me for.” 

Ronan handed the bird back to Adam and the three started driving again. Henry was talking through ideas, not caring that neither of them responded. Ronan could tell that something was bothering Adam but didn’t have a guess as to what. 

Finally, they were back at his restaurant. Walking in he saw that Noah was busy playing quarters with some college kid and Blue was being chatted up by a patron.

“What do you know about Welsh kings?” the man asked, leaning in and smiling a million dollar smile at her. 

It was a terrible pick up line but Blue fell for it hook line and sinker. She shook her head, smiling back, “Can’t say that I do.”

Ronan glanced at him, the man looked like he came from from easy money, while nothing about him was audacious, everything, from his boat shoes to his popped collar, screamed money and comfort. 

“I’ll take my pie now,” Henry said, sitting at the counter and ignoring Blue. 

“Sure,” he looked for Adam, about to ask him if he wanted any but the man was gone. Ronan had been too busy watching Blue to notice he had disappeared. 

“Noah, earn your keep,” Ronan said, heading upstairs to his apartment. Adam was sitting on the couch, going through his suitcase again. 

“Are you okay?” Ronan asked. 

“No,” Adam replied, not looking at him. “But given that I’m dead I suppose that’s to be expected.”

It physically hurt Ronan to not be able to hold Adam. He watched as Adam folded and refolded the same shirt.

“I’ll clean out a drawer for you,” he decided, mostly for something to do. He moved to his dresser, opening one that was nearly empty anyway. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Adam asked from behind Ronan.

He turned, surprised to hear that. “Of course I do. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

Adam shrugged, “You didn’t want me to come today.”

 

Ronan didn’t think the two were related. 

“I didn’t want you investigating your own death.” 

“We haven’t seen each other in decades and I’m only here because you happened to take my case. It’s fine if you don’t want all the responsibility that comes with this.” 

Ronan looked at the other man, suddenly annoyed. Adam was drawing conclusions that he didn’t understand or agree with.

“Where is this coming from?”

Adam shrugged, “It’s true.”

“Just because we weren’t together before it doesn’t mean I don’t want you here,” he said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of his voice. “The way you got here doesn’t change how I feel now.” 

Adam looked at him, something like anger flashing over his face, “You could have fooled me.” He stood, turning to the window and away from Ronan.

“What the hell does that mean?” 

Chainsaw kerrah’ed in the background, alarmed at the change in his tone. 

Ronan saw Adam gripping the window sill, and suddenly remembered that the man used to have a temper. He got it from his dad, the explosion of anger that seemed to come out of nowhere. It looked like he was counting to ten before replying. 

Then he spoke, “You never looked me up! You never tried to find me!” Adam turned to him. “In all those years! So excuse me for thinking you didn’t care.”

Ronan was taken aback, not expecting that, “We were kids! What was I supposed to do? Track you down?” 

“Maybe! At least I would have known you cared.”

Ronan didn’t understand where this was coming from. Or why it was happening now.

“I’m sorry 16 year old Ronan didn’t leave home to follow you,” He spat the words out, angry that Adam was angry. 

Adam’s jaw set, “Don’t be flip about this. I’m trying to tell you that I can leave if you don’t want this. You clearly don’t invite all the other people you keep alive to live here.”

“You’re different,” Ronan said through gritted teeth. 

“Why?” 

Ronan’s jaw worked but words didn’t come out. He wanted to explain that he didn't usually save people, that Adam was different, that he had loved him once and thought he could again. 

But any of that was too much to admit after just a day so he said none of it. 

“You just are.”

Adam shook his head, “Compelling reasoning Lynch.” He sighed heavily and turned away again, looking out the window. 

“What do you want from me here Adam? This is weird for me too!” Ronan stalked towards him, getting as close as he dared. 

“You can leave if you want. You’re not a prisoner.”

Adam looked at him again. His eyes were sad, almost mournful, “But I can’t, can I? That’s the problem Ronan. I’m  _ dead _ . I don’t exactly have a lot of options.” He turned back to the window, signalling an end to the conversation.

Ronan stared at him, trying to think of something to say that would comfort his friend. In the corner of his eyes he saw the birds and had to resist the urge to smash them, angry that Adam had been killed over something so small and stupid. 

But he couldn’t. He had expected Adam to react like Noah- confused but overall excited about life 2.0. He should have known that nothing with Adam was that simple. Adam could never just be happy about something. He had to pick at it, examine it, until the meaning was laid bare and the truth won out. 

This time, there wasn’t a simple explanation and it wasn’t something that they could just get over. Maybe Adam was just realizing that now. And maybe Ronan was too. He hadn’t thought through touching Adam, giving him life. He had only done it, consequences be damned. 

He was responsible for Adam’s life and all the emotions it stirred up. And for the fact that he couldn’t do a damn thing to comfort the man, he couldn’t draw him into a hug or offer him a shoulder to cry on. He was useless. 

Ronan turned around, exiting the apartment without another word. 


	3. The Piemaker's Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’ll never be a normal couple,” Adam told him, eyes grabbing Ronan’s and holding them with determination.
> 
> “I don’t care.”
> 
> “We can’t kiss.”
> 
> “Not important.”
> 
> “We can’t hold hands.”
> 
> “I’ll manage.”

Ronan went back downstairs, deciding that he needed to work. Blue was still being flirted with, a coffee pot in hand as she listened to a story about tombs. Noah was in the back, washing dishes and signing off key. They exchanged quick hello’s as Ronan grabbed an apron and order pad. If Blue wasn’t going to do her job he’d do it for her. 

“Hey, can I get you anything else?” he asked, clearing the plate away from a customer. 

The man looked up at Ronan slowly, assessing him in a way that made his skin prickle. Ronan decided then he didn’t like him. He was too clean and perfect looking. It made him feel uneasy. The deliberate delay in his response didn’t help either. 

Finally the man answered, his voice silky and smooth. “Excellent pie. Quite a quaint place you have here.” 

Ronan suppressed a glare. He was a customer. Ronan couldn’t threaten him. “Thank you. Anything else?” he asked again.

The man pulled out a small toothpick holder and poured one onto his hand, starting to carefully pick his teeth, “I heard you were working on the Parrish case.” 

Ronan narrowed his eyes. There was no way this man knew about their investigation. Henry kept things quiet because he hated competition and Ronan didn’t talk to anyone besides Blue and Noah. 

He took another longer look at the man, trying to determine why he cared. He was wearing clothes that were shabby-looking in an expensive way. There were purposeful tears and rips on them that Ronan knew weren’t from real wear and tear. A Rolex watch glinted on his wrist and Ronan guessed that his glasses were a fancy name brand too. In short, the man was rich and didn’t care if people knew. 

If that weren’t enough to make Ronan distrust him, there was the way that he looked around, almost predatory. 

“Parrish case? Not sure what you mean,” he tried to give a half truth. 

The man looked at him, as if trying to assess what type of man Ronan was, “I can pay handsomely for any information you have.” 

Ronan shook his head, “I don’t have any information.” 

He looked almost disappointed, like he had expected Ronan’s answer to change that the promise of money. He switched tactics.

“This is a nice establishment. I’m sure you’re very proud of it,” he looked at Ronan again. “It’d be a shame if something happened to it.” 

Ronan scoffed, crossing his arms,“Are you from a 1920’s mobster movie?” 

The man didn’t like this response. His eyes narrowed and he set his jaw, “You’re young and foolish. I get that. I was like that once,” he pulled out his wallet, carefully sliding a 20 dollar bill under his plate then pulled out a card. “If you suddenly remember something give me a call.”

Ronan took the card, barely glancing at it as he put it in his pocket. White card with gold font. Colin Greenmantle. Collector. It was the more pretentious, stupid thing he’d ever seen. 

“I won’t,” he told the man- Greenmantle- as he picked up the cash and plates and walked away. He went to the kitchen, his mind reeling. He could tell that Greenmantle wasn’t a man to be taken lightly. He was obviously wealthy and wanted something. And he knew about Ronan and Henry. Those things spelled trouble. 

“Noah, I’ve got to handle something,” Ronan said, dropping off the plates and ringing out the order. “Are you okay on your own for the rest of today?” The boy waved him off, barely looking at him.

“I need to hire better help,” he muttered, leaving out the back door. He debated what to do next. He needed to talk to Adam and Henry. Both of those presented different difficulties. He decided to first go with the person he had fought with less recently. 

“Henry. Meet me at Burial Grounds.” 

The place was coffee shop a few blocks from Ronan’s shop that they went to when Henry insisted he needed something besides pie. 

Ronan showed up first, getting one of their five dollar coffees and sitting in a booth. He wished Adam was here. It was dumb. It had only been a day but he was already used to having him around. He wanted this to work, but he didn’t know how. How much of a relationship could they have if they couldn’t touch each other? Adam deserved better than that. He deserved to be held. Especially in this second chance at life. 

Ronan made a promise to himself. Solve the case. Find the murderer. Let Adam go. He owed it to Adam. And himself. 

As he made the decision the door chimed and Henry walked in, he ordered a coffee and scone then sat, pulling out  some yarn as he did. Ronan rose an eyebrow at him as he started knitting.

“It calms me down. I have a feeling that whatever you’re going to say isn’t good,” Henry said, beginning to work the yarn. 

“You’re right about that,” Ronan said, and proceeded to relay what had happened. The more Ronan talked, the faster Henry knitted. 

When he was finished telling the story, Henry glanced around, “So where is the man in question? Your dead beau?”

“I don’t know.”

Henry looked at him, “You’re already fighting? It’s only been a day,” he shook his head. “I knew this was a bad idea.” 

“Not relevant right now,” Ronan said, taking a drink of his coffee. It was really good, which annoyed him. It would have suited the mood better if it was burnt. 

Henry sighed as if to say that it was extremely relevant but he let it drop.

“Give me the card,” he said, holding out a hand. Ronan deposited it in his hand, watching Henry examine it as if it held a secret. 

“Probably not his real name,” he decided after a minute.

Ronan shook his head, “I think it is. He seemed too full of himself to think of using a fake one.” 

“Well he probably has something to do with those birds in Adam’s luggage. And he’s probably tied to his death. I just don’t know how,” the detective spun the card in his hand before putting it in his pocket. “Let me call some people. I’ll look into him. I need to think about this.” 

“What should I do?” 

Henry looked at him, “Make up with your boyfriend. I hated the idea of working this case with the two of you flirting, I’m really not into it if you’re fighting.” 

Ronan thought about pointing out that Adam wasn’t his boyfriend but let it go.  “Fine.”

They made plans to talk tomorrow and Ronan went back to his apartment, where he was hoping Adam was.

“Hello?” he called as he entered. He was only greeted with a quiet ‘keerah?’ from Chainsaw. Adam was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” he muttered. There wasn’t a note or anything but his suitcase was still there, which Ronan took as a good sign. 

“Where the hell is he?” Ronan asked Chainsaw. Her only reply was to blink at him. “Well you’re no help.” 

He sat down on his bed, trying not to think about how he could smell Adam. Adam who was, against all the odds, back in his life. Adam who had had to die before Ronan could find him. Adam who he got into a stupid fight with because he didn’t understand what Adam was going through and never would. Probably. 

Suddenly Ronan knew where he was. He stood and Chainsaw watched him, “Keerah?” She asked, hopping towards him. 

“You can come. I don’t know that it’ll be much fun though.” 

She seemed to accept this, hopping to his shoulder, careful to avoid his neck or ear, and the pair set off. 

Twenty minutes later they were at the cemetery. Ronan was holding a set of dull flowers, feeling stupid for bringing them to an empty grave. He hoped that it was one of those things where it was the thought that counted. 

He had checked up front to see where Adam’s plot was. Walking there he saw someone bent over the freshly dug grave, one hand on the tombstone.

“Fucking dark, Parrish,” Ronan told him as he neared. 

Adam looked up at him then back to his grave, “Fuck off.” 

Ronan dropped the flowers and sat, waiting for Adam to speak. 

It took a while. It was nearly ten minutes before Adam said something. Even then it wasn’t really to Ronan. It was more to himself and Ronan happened to be there to listen.

“I never did shit with my life,” he said, sliding his hand over the grass blades. “I stayed with my dad, taking care of him, because I was too scared to leave. Then when I did, when I finally did something for myself, I was murdered,” he laughed. It was cold and full of self loathing. “I’m the ultimate cautionary tale of never leaving home.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

Adam looked at him and Ronan could see he had been crying but was trying to control it. 

“Why the fuck not? It’s true. I never did anything and when I finally did I died.” 

“You didn’t stay dead. You still have a whole second life in front of you.”

“A second life where I cant use my name or identity,” he gestured to his gravestone. “Adam Parrish is dead Ronan. He can’t apply to college or get a job. He might as well be a ghost.” 

Ronan wished he could touch Adam. He wanted nothing more than to run a finger along his cheek, or pull him into a hug. You never realized how much you needed touch until you couldn’t have it. 

Remembering something he pulled out a rubber glove, one he used for cutting fruit, and put it on. Slowly, he raised the gloved hand to Adam’s cheek, giving Adam a chance to move back. He didn’t and Ronan cupped his cheek, noticing that Adam’s skin was cool under his hand. 

Adam turned to him, leaning into the touch, “This is all we can have. Touching through plastic. What kind of relationship is that? You can’t want that.” 

“I want you.” Ronan hadn’t intended to say it but it was true. “However I can have you,” he swallowed and soldiered on. “I lost you twice Adam, once without even realizing it. I don’t want that to happen again. I know it won’t be easy. I know there’s a lot of moving parts but we can do this, if you want it,” he paused, forcing himself to say the next part. “But if you want to leave, if you want someone else, I’ll help you. We can get you a fake ID and documents. I did it for Noah. You can have what you always wanted Adam. You can travel, you can have a career, a life.”

He watched Adam consider the alternative maybe for the first time. Ronan held his breath, promising to himself he’d respect whatever the other man decide on. 

“We’ll never be a normal couple,” Adam told him, eyes grabbing Ronan’s and holding them with determination.

“I don’t care.” 

“We can’t kiss.”

“Not important.”

“We can’t hold hands.” 

“I’ll manage.”

Adam swallowed, “We can’t have sex.”

“I have my hand,” Ronan said, finally earning a chuckle from Adam. 

“You really want this? All these terms and conditions?”

Ronan nodded, “I want  _ you _ . In any way I can have you.”

“You say that now-” Adam started and Ronan cut him off.

“I’ll say it until I die. I lost you before Adam. I should have told you then what you meant to me and I didn’t. I already lost years with you. You think I don't understand what I’m agreeing to? What this means?” He scoffed. “I know what I’m signing up for Adam. I will love you in any way I can.”

Adam’s tears fell onto the glove and rolled to Ronan’s wrist before he blinked them away. “It won’t be easy,” he said.

“Nothing worthwhile ever is.” 

Adam took a deep breath then nodded, “Okay. Okay fine. We’ll do this,” he glanced at his grave. “I don’t know if I’m ready for a new identity yet. I might want to be Adam Parrish for a bit longer.” 

“For as long as you want.” 

They sat for a minute, Ronan let his hand drop. Finally Adam asked, “How’d you know I’d be here?”

“I thought of the most depressing place I could and went there.” 

Adam laughed, rolling his eyes, “Thanks Lynch.” He sighed, pushing himself to a standing position, “should we head back?” 

Ronan stood too, “There’s something else we need to talk about.” Adam paused and listened as Ronan explained the interaction and what the man had looked like. Adam’s face fell as he talked. When he finished he asked, “Does he sound familiar at all?” 

The answer was written on Adam’s face, “Unfortunately.” 

Ronan waited but the other man didn’t say anything else.

“Adam!” he finally exclaimed, annoyed that he wasn’t explaining. 

Adam sighed. He brought his hands up uselessly then let them fall again.

“I think- I think he approached me when I was leaving the travel agency. He was standing outside, it was like he was waiting for me,” he paused. “I didn’t think about that until now. He seemed friendly enough. He asked if I wanted to make some easy money. I thought he was asking me to sleep with him but he explained that I just needed to pick something up for him and bring it to the US.  I refused and his whole demeanor changed. I don’t think he was used to hearing no. He threatened me, saying he could make my life difficult,” Adam laughed humorlessly. “I guess he was right there. He made it impossible.” 

Adam looked at Ronan. “That’s it. I walked away then.”

Ronan frowned, “Why you? Why did you still end up with the birds? This doesn’t make any sense.” 

Adam shrugged, “Maybe I looked like an easy mark. Travelling alone, first time abroad.”

Ronan didn’t like it. There had to be something else. 

“Henry is investigating Greenmantle. We need to figure out what those birds are.” 

Adam raised an eyebrow, “We? I thought I wasn’t allowed to help.”

“Who better to solve your own murder than yourself?” he asked, parroting Adam’s earlier comment. Adam’s face lit up. A real, honest smile practically radiated off him. In that moment, Ronan knew he was in love with him and he’d do whatever he could to see that smile again. 

“Great,” Adam furrowed his brows. “But where do we go?”

“I know the answer to that.” 

The pair walked to Ronan’s car, swinging by the apartment to pick up the birds before going to the Foxway Pawn Shop. Ronan had met the owners when he was trying to figure out his strange powers. They were good resources for all things strange and unexplainable. He figured if the birds were secretly valuable or if there was something special about them they would be the ones who could tell him.

“Ah, the snake,” Calla, one of the owners, called out as he entered. Her eyes narrowed. “Why does the other one smell like death?” 

Ronan balked and she came out, hitting him with a rolled up newspaper, “You are supposed to keep a low profile! Bringing boys back from the dead is not a low profile!”

“I know!” he said, stepping away from her assault, “but there were special circumstances.”

She looked from Ronan to Adam, hissing at them, “Just because you got lost in his eyes doesn’t make it special. It makes it foolish.” 

“Leave them alone,” Maura appeared from behind a bead curtain. “Who are we to question someone else’s love?” she shared a quiet smile with Calla. 

A third woman, Persephone, appeared, carrying a suit of armor that had to weigh twice as much as her. She let it clatter to the ground, joining her partners, “What did you bring us today?” she asked. Ronan wasn’t sure if she meant Adam or the birds.

He decided to offer both. Nudging Adam forward he explained what happened. As he did the frown on Calla’s face deepened, Maura’s head tilted and Persephone stared at them with a distant smile. 

Once Ronan finished, Persephone reached out for the birds. She shuddered as her hand brushed Adam’s and Ronan felt jealous. He’d never get to know what Adam’s hand felt like against his. In that instant it seemed profoundly unfair, that strangers were allowed these casual touches and he wasn’t. He knew that he had to accept it, that he’d spend the rest of his life watching other people bump into and touch Adam. He had to be happy with what he had.

Adam glanced at him as all three woman huddle around the object, touching it and muttering to each other. 

“Just, wait,” Ronan said, unable to explain what they were doing. He didn’t understand but he knew it worked. They had helped him with his powers, telling him that no he wasn’t alone and no they didn’t know anyone else who had his powers. So maybe it was less reassuring and more a way to pretend that that had helped. At least he had resources for when weird things happened in his life. 

“It’s magical,” Maura finally said.  At the same time Calla said, “Get rid of it.” And Persephone said, “He was killed for it.”

Adam and Ronan exchanged glances. “What is it?” Adam asked. 

Calla shrugged, “Something old. Something that men would kill for. What else matters?”

“Why Adam?” Ronan asked. 

“Because he’s magical,” Persephone replied, like it was obvious. She tipped the birds back into his hands. “He can carry them. Your new shadow must have known that.”

“Shadow?” Ronan asked. 

Maura nodded, “He’s outside. He arrived only a minute after you.”

Adam and Ronan rushed to the window to look outside. Sure enough there was Greenmantle, sitting in a fancy sports car. It looked like he was reading a magazine, not a care in the world. Ronan’s hate for him went a little deeper. 

“What do we do?” Adam asked, turning back to the women. All three shrugged. 

“You have a lot of options.” Persephone mused unhelpfully. “Or, if you wait long enough, the universe may decide for you.” 

Adam seemed to find this advice as useless as Ronan, “You can’t tell us anything else about the birds?” 

“Are they dangerous?” Ronan asked and all three gave a small shrug as if to say ‘perhaps to some.’ 

“That’s all there is,” Maura said, tipping the birds back into Adam’s hand. With that she turned to leave, the others following. 

Adam turned to Ronan, “Now what?”

Ronan sighed, looking from Adam to the birds, “We need pie.” 

“Pie?” Ronan nodded. “That won’t solve anything.” 

He shrugged, “Pie solves lots of things, you’d be surprised.”

The pair left the shop and all Ronan could see was Greenmantle. He wondered if the man knew that Adam was with him or if he just thought it was a random person. He wondered how long they had. He wondered how Adam’s hand would feel in his. 

He pushed the thoughts from his mind, none of them would help. They went back to the restaurant, where Blue was finally working, her new beau gone. Noah had disappeared but there weren’t enough customers for Ronan to care. 

Ronan cut them each a big piece of pie and added a healthy scoop of ice cream, sliding the plate carefully across the booth to Adam, who looked at him, still skeptical, then took a slow bite. Ronan watched him eat,  enjoying the slow smile that spread across his face.

“This is good,” he said, taking another large bite.

“You don’t need to sound so shocked,” Ronan grumbled, though he was happy to see Adam enjoying something. They ate silently, letting the pie work its unique magic over them. 

“What are we going to do?” Adam asked as he finished the piece, scraping his fork along the plate.

“We’re going to watch a movie.” 

Adam raised an eyebrow at him, clearly suggesting that that wasn’t going to help solve any of their problems.

“We’re going to pretend, just for tonight, that we’re a normal couple and we’re going to order a pizza and watch whatever shitty movie you pick out.” 

Adam looked both unsure and ready to argue so Ronan held up a hand, “We can’t solve it tonight. We need whatever Henry finds and we need to relax.” He looked at Adam, “And we need this. Something normal.”

“We aren’t normal though. We can’t touch,” Adam said, as if Ronan could ever forget that even for a second.

“I have a solution for that,” Ronan was sure Adam would make fun of him but it’d be worth it. Adam’s eyebrow arched higher but he didn’t ask.

“I want pineapple on the pizza.”

“Disgusting but fine.” 

Adam beamed at him and Ronan decided that it was worth warm fruit on pizza for that smile. He closed up the restaurant with Blue while Adam went upstairs, ordering new clothes and disguting pizza online with Ronan’s credit card.

Adam looked up as he entered, “I ordered the pizza.” 

Ronan nodded, disappearing into his closet. “What are you doing?” Adam called after him. 

“This,” Ronan emerged from the closet wearing a beekeepers outfit. “Is touch proof,” he said, holding his hands out. 

“What the hell is that?” Adam asked, clearly trying not to laugh. 

Ronan did a spin for him then sat on the couch, “I have bees on the roof. Also Chainsaw likes being on my shoulder, this makes it easier.” Almost on cue the bird flew over, perching on his helmet. 

Adam shook his head but he was still smiling, “Are you warm?”

“Not yet,” He put out an arm. “Fucking cuddle me Parrish, before I get too sweaty for this.”

Still laughing, Adam leaned into Ronan, nestling against him. Ronan’s arm went easily around his shoulder and, for the first time, things felt normal for the Pie Maker and his boyfriend. And even though they couldn’t touch they knew the other was there for them, emotionally and, with the help of a beekeeper's outfit, physically. 

But what they didn’t know was that, at that moment, Greenmantle was paying a visit to Adam’s dad and having a similar but much more malicious conversation with him. One that ended very differently than Ronan’s had. 

But our heroes had no idea All they knew was that a pizza was the way and that, for the moment, things were looking up. 


	4. The Piemaker’s choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pie maker remembers everything. He remembers the first time he saw Adam smile. He remembers when he heard Adam’s laugh. He remembers when he fell in love with the other man. He remembers the fear and stress from losing his father- twice- and his mother- once.
> 
> He remembers the feeling of being turned down for loans- thrice- and the joy of being told yes- once. He remembers the look on Noah’s face when he realized he was dead. He remembers the strange smile Noah wears every year when they celebrate his birthday and the way he disappears when his death day rolls around.

The pie maker remembers everything. He remembers the first time he saw Adam smile. He remembers when he heard Adam’s laugh. He remembers when he fell in love with the other man. He remembers the fear and stress from losing his father- twice- and his mother- once.

He remembers the feeling of being turned down for loans- thrice- and the joy of being told yes- once. He remembers the look on Noah’s face when he realized he was dead. He remembers the strange smile Noah wears every year when they celebrate his birthday and the way he disappears when his death day rolls around. 

And the pie maker will never forget the next 24 hours of his life, not matter how much he wishes he could. 

 

When Ronan woke up the next day he was immediately worried about the weight that was pressed against him- until he realized that the weight was still breathing. He and Adam had fallen asleep on the couch, Adam’s head resting against his chest and Ronan’s on top of Adam’s. His neck hurt and his arm was sore and he wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. 

Carefully, he moved away from Adam, letting him rest on the couch while he got ready. He saw that he had a text from Henry, telling him that he was downstairs and ready for his hush pie. Showering quickly, Ronan went down to the shop, finding Henry leaning against the wall of the restaurant and reading a ratty paperback. 

“Did you find anything?” Ronan asked.

“Did you sleep in a bee keeper uniform?” Ronan reeled back, alarmed by the accuracy of the guess. Henry pointed to his arms, still red with the marks of the outfit. 

“How’d you know it was a beekeeper outfit though?” 

“You keep bees,” Henry said, like it was obvious. Sometimes, with his knitting and snarky observations, Ronan forgot that Henry was actually clever. 

“Can I get my pie now? I’ll tell you what I learned.”

They went in, Henry cutting himself a large slab of rhubarb pie and sitting at the counter. Ronan told Henry what they found out and Henry didn’t seem surprised to learn that the item was magical. 

“You don’t think it’s strange?” Ronan asked.

Henry fixed him with a look, “You bring people back from the dead. I stopped being shocked years ago.” 

Ronan supposed that make sense of a sort. He had made the mistake of assuming that his type of magic was the only one out there. Henry clearly hadn’t. 

“What did you find?” He asked,once it was obvious that Henry wasn’t going to tell him without prompting.

The other man wiped his mouth and looked at Ronan.

“He’s dangerous. Strange disappearances and deaths seem to follow him. Not someone to be taken lightly. I couldn’t find out much about his business besides that he trades in illegal goods that are worth more than your restaurant and apartment combined.” 

Ronan wasn’t surprised by this but not being surprised didn’t stop him from worrying. He didn’t want to be mixed up in this and yet he already was, because of Adam and whatever strange powers he held. 

He decided that Adam was a fair trade for Greenmantle. 

“What do we do?” He asked, clearing Henry’s plate and serving them both coffee. Adam came downstairs then, looking like he could have slept for another week. He poured himself coffee, his look of exhaustion growing as they filled him in. 

“Can we just give him the birds? It seems like the easiest solution,” Adam asked. A piece of his hair had fallen in front of his face and Ronan had to stop himself from tucking it back behind his ear. 

Henry fixed him with a look, “It’s too late for that. You’ve seen his face. And the birds. He’s going to kill you.” 

Again not being surprised didn’t mean the news didn’t terrify Ronan, “What do we do then?”

“Well, a smart man would run,” Henry said, holding out his cup for more coffee.  Ronan filled it and Henry continued. “But you’re both idiots,” He took a sip of coffee. “So you have to kill him.” 

“What?” Ronan shouted. He looked at Adam, who seemed nearly as shocked. “Can’t we bring him to justice? Get the cops involved?” Adam nodded, agreeing that this was a better solution. 

Henry looked from him to Adam like he couldn’t believe they were such fools.

“For what? The murder of a man who is still walking and talking? What if they want to do an autopsy?”

“What about for the illegal goods?” Adam asked.

“You don’t think Greenmantle knows how to cover his tracks?” Henry shook his head. “He’s smarter than that. He’ll never get caught.” He pointed his cup at them, “You’ll have to kill him. It’s the only way to make sure this ends and that all of us live.” 

Ronan looked at Adam, helpless. He couldn’t imagine killing someone. From the look on Adam’s face he felt the same. Henry however, just stood, looking at them both. 

“I don’t know what to tell you. You’re welcome to sit around and try to think of other options but the longer you wait the longer he can scheme. Time isn’t in your favor.” 

With that, Henry left. A certain silence settled over the shop when he did. One that Ronan had never felt. It was a silence appropriate for the contemplation of a terrible act. 

“I need to make some pies,” Ronan said, walking to the back of the shop. Adam stayed where he was and for a minute, Ronan resented Henry for ruining the lighthearted mood they had found last night. 

Adam stayed up front while Ronan gathered his ingredients- rotted fruit, flour, sugar. Eventually Adam joined him, watching Ronan carefully pass ingredients from one hand to his other, gloved, one. 

“Can I help?” He asked. It was a sign of how stressed he was that his accent was thick. The word ‘help’ gained two extra syllables. 

Ronan nodded, explaining to Adam how to make pie crust. They worked in silence, both stuck in their own thoughts. 

“Aw fuck,” Adam said, twenty minutes later, as he accidentally spilled floured over himself. Ronan looked up, the sight of Adam covered in white powder making him laugh.

“You look like a ghost,” he said. 

Adam wiped some of the flour from his face, laughing too. “Well finally.”

He looked at Ronan, who was holding back another laugh. In a quick movement Adam tore off a piece of saran wrap and, stretching it between his hands, moved to Ronan, quickly kissing him through the wrap. 

Ronan looked at him, wide eyed, and Adam blushed. “I wanted to, just once.” He said sheepishly. 

“Hold it up again,” Ronan asked and Adam held the saran to his face. Ronan kissed him again, gently, savoring how Adam’s lips felt against his own. He could almost pretend that there wasn’t something between them. 

Almost. 

He moved back and both blushed. 

“We’ll figure something out.” Ronan said with more confidence than he felt. “We don’t have to kill him,” he put his gloved hand carefully to Adam’s face as Adam nodded. 

“Okay.” 

The pair went back to making pies, the atmosphere a little lighter now. Before long Noah came and then customers followed. 

One of those customers was familiar in the worst way. Greenmantle sat down, making careful eye contact with Adam and then Ronan. Ronan stopped Noah from walking over, saying that he’d take the order. 

“What can I get you?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Greenmantle leaned back, looking at Adam, who was pretending to clean a nearby table. 

“How about whatever magical device you used to bring back the boy I murdered?”  Hearing him admit it made Ronan want to strangle him, right there in front of everyone. 

“Not for sale,” he answered through gritted teeth.

“Then just some pie, blueberry. Two slices,” Greenmantle said, leaning back unworriedly and continuing to openly watch Adam. 

“Someone’s got their eye on your boy,” Noah commented as Ronan walked by him. 

“Not for long,” he replied, adding a dollop of whipped cream to the freshly baked pie.

He had thought he couldn’t murder someone but with how Greenmantle was watching Adam- like he had no concern for who knew, like he wanted to open him up and see what made him tick- made him reconsider. 

Still, the contemplation of an act is different than the act itself. 

He shoved the pie in front of Greenmantle, “Why are you here?”

Greenmantle took a slow bite of pie before replying, “At first I was here to give you a chance to change your story. But now I’m here to take that friend of yours with me to study him.”

Ronan’s hands curled into fists. 

“We have your birds. We’ll give you those if you leave us alone.”

Greenmantle laughed, taking another large bite, “Those? Mere trifles compared to what you have here. He-,” he pointed his fork at Adam, “Is much more interesting. I’ll take him and you’ll never hear from me again,” He had already polished off one piece. 

“No,” Ronan said, watching Greenmantle take another bite. And another, until he finished the slice. 

Then, after delicately patting a napkin to his lips, he looked up at Ronan.

“What will you do to stop me? You make pie. Good pie, I’ll give you that. But you have no power. No connections. No money. What will you do?” Ronan didn’t answer and Greenmantle leaned in again, asking viciously, savoring his despair,  “What will you do?”

Ronan was saved from answering as Greenmantle started to choke. He stepped back, alarmed, and watched as Greenmantle turned red, then blue, then fell to the table, dead. It all happened quickly, there was barely even time for Noah and Adam to rush over. Thankfully, there were no other customers in the restaurant so no one bore witness except the three of them. And it’s always been said that three can keep a secret if two are dead. 

“What the hell? What happened?” Noah asked, eyes whipping from the dead man to Ronan. “Is he dead? Like, dead dead?” Adam said nothing, too stunned. 

Ronan shook his head, staring at the body. He didn’t have any idea. 

 

\----

The facts were these. 

3 days ago Ronan had touched Adam’s cheek, bringing the man to life and setting off one chain of events that included birds, pies and threats. What Ronan didn’t know was that the action he didn’t take also set off a chain of events. When he didn’t touch Adam the second time, someone else had died. 

Ronan had assumed that it was the mortician, alone in his stuffy office, but in reality the moritican was alive and well and would remain so for another 15 years, 8 months and 27 days. 

The person whose life ended abruptly that day was a fruit seller who was stopping in for a funeral delivery. Someone had requested blueberries at their wake and, while it was a strange request, the fruit seller wasn’t one to turn down business. So they went into the funeral home, stopping to steal jewelry and watches that they found on bodies along the way (for a scrupulous fruit seller may still be an unscrupulous thief). It was they who were affected by Ronan’s non-decision. 

As they reached into the coffin, eager to liberate one last necklace from the deceased, the minute expired and so did they. Had they not been so busy stealing things they probably would have made it out of the funeral home with nothing damaged but their soul. 

This set off a chain of fruit-related events. With their main blueberry seller permanently indisposed, the fruit company had to make due with a different seller, one who didn’t know the ins and out of the business like the deceased had. 

Like, for example, that the strange man who bought rotten fruit wouldn’t buy all rotten fruit. He would only buy fruit that had rotted naturally, not pieces which had rotted due to poison that was sprayed on it. Had the alternate blueberry peddler read Ronan’s file he would have known this. But he didn’t and therefore delivered fruit that was rotted from man and not nature. The very fruit that Ronan had used that morning to make a blueberry pie. The pie that Greenmantle had then ordered and eaten quickly and greedily. The poison worked rapidly through his system, causing the reddening then purpling then death. 

Of course, our heroes didn’t know this. And wouldn’t for several weeks. But we can skip all that, fast forwarding to three weeks later when Greenmantle’s body is gone and buried, all suspicion of Ronan has been cleared and Adam has several new outfits from his online shopping spree. 

 

\-----

 

“Parrish you had better not just ordered a dozen Coca-Cola shirts,” Ronan said, glancing at his boyfriend, who was sitting beside him in the front seat. A newly installed plane of glass between them, the agreed upon method for allowing Adam to ride in the front seat after Ronan had freaked out about potentially accidentally touching him.  

It was one of the many changes Ronan had made. Another was to wear bells on his shoes when he was in the apartment, paranoid that Adam wouldn’t hear his approach otherwise. He’d also been apartment shopping, looking for a larger space for both of them, one where they could hide a safe that contained only two bird statutes. They had decided to sell the bird statutes and use the money for a few semesters worth of community college for Adam. It seemed fitting to have the reason for his death used to improve his life. 

Finally, he’d given up using rotten fruit, the savings not worth the potential casualties. He was lucky that nothing worse had happened than a fine and a few hours’ worth of questioning. 

“I didn’t. I ordered a Pepsi one, for variety,” Adam joked, ignoring Ronan’s scoff as they drove. Henry was waiting for them, a new case waiting to begin and Adam was now a crucial part of the team, the missing piece that Ronan hadn’t known he needed until it was there, blue eyes staring back at him. 

There had been a few more fights in the last few weeks but eventually things had settled. Adam decided to go back to college under a new name. Ronan decided to expand his business into scones and muffins. Both men were happy, even if they still couldn’t touch. It was the one thing in their relationship neither wanted to bring up but both thought about constantly. 

Ronan knew the three rules inside and out. He lived by them, a silent mantra for his life and, now, for Adam’s as well because the two were now linked forever by a strong emotion that neither yet dared to speak out loud. 

Rule One: Touch a dead thing once alive.

Rule Two: Touch a dead thing again, dead forever.

Rule Three: Keep a dead thing alive for more than a minute and something else has to die.

These were the rules and Ronan would never question or push them. They had brought him Chainsaw, Noah, Adam and our pie maker knew he was lucky to have that much. 

What Ronan didn’t know was that there was a Fourth Rule, still unspoken, which went as follows: “Once the revived has been alive long enough, rule 2 is no longer in effect."

This rule wasn’t known by the Pie Maker or his boyfriend. Not yet. But both would be learning it, sooner than you’d guess. 

For now though, The Pie Maker was content to reach his hand through the gloved arm they’d installed in the pane of glass, his fingers intertwining with Adam’s as they bickered about soda flavors. He gave Adam’s a squeeze, a silent ‘I love you’. Adam answered back with his own squeeze. 

And, for now, that was enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone! I loved this little fic and I hope you enjoyed it

**Author's Note:**

> Alt title: Bake me the world  
> Yay! I'm super excited to be posting this! Make sure you check out all the amazing fics and art for the big bang!  
> I'll be posting the other chapters within the next week or so.  
> [here](https://purrincesscatitude.tumblr.com/post/184423660935/ronan-lynchs-life-is-governed-by-three-simple) is a link to the AMAZING art for the fic


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